


Becoming Lost

by Natanya



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, POV Female Character, let's try a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 01:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13354008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natanya/pseuds/Natanya
Summary: Eylira woke from the fire to the news that someone knew who was to blame and offered a chance at revenge. With nothing to keep her in one place she set out, but even from the start there had to be more to it than a single madman with a torch.





	Becoming Lost

Eylira stumbled from the inferno that had been her house and this time she was sure of it. Part of her didn’t see the point. The smoke and roar of the flames that had hindered her in the first place were still all around her. The only thing to keep her moving was that she knew which direction was out of the burning village. Other survivors would be gathered there.

As she made her way over cobblestones cracked from the heat, a tongue of fire licked at her left sleeve. Her arm went up unnaturally fast. When she drew in breath to scream, hot smoke rushed into her mouth and scorched her lungs. The only place she could see left that wasn’t in flames was the ground itself and Eylira didn’t think twice about dropping down to smother her burning arm with dirt.

Behind her, the fire crackled like it had seen her just sitting there and was ready to pounce. Eylira couldn’t tell if her arm was alright; she didn’t have time to care. Cradling it against her chest, running and fighting the urge to black out, she didn’t notice at first when the air changed. On the heels of the relief that she was breathing clean air again came a solid blow to her back that took the last of the fight out of her. Everything went black.

Eylira awoke to a field of white. The difference was so stark she though she’d been dreaming. Then she lifted her head, pain flared into life down her back, and someone else gasped nearby. “Don’t move!” an unfamiliar female voice ordered. _No worries there_ , Eylira thought. She’d already decided she was never moving again.

When hands began lifting her into a sitting position, agonizingly slowly, she hummed in protest. “I know it hurts.” The voice was gentle now. “You came out of there with your back on fire. But if you just lie there, it will heal like that. I’ve kept you unconscious for as long as I dare. There, see, you’re up.”

So she was. Eylira knew immediately that she didn’t like it. Two glasses of water and a great deal of coughing later, she still didn’t like it. Her back _hurt_ , and felt strangely liquid. With gauze wrapped around her entire torso, she couldn’t try to look at it even without the pain. “Here.” A glass of water was held to her lips. Eylira reached up to grip it herself and did it wrong, somehow.

Two assisted glasses of water and a great deal of coughing later, her throat no longer hurt. Her back felt worse than ever courtesy of all that motion, of course. “My name is Calla,” the healer said, cutting Eylira off when she was on the verge of asking questions. “I serve Aher; she directed us to this place. Here, let me check your bandages.”

When the older woman reached for her again, Eylira shrank back regardless of the pain at the motion. Dread had begun to form in the back of her mind. As far as explanations went, that one fell short and she didn’t like that Calla had kept her from asking anything. “Who else?” she broke in quickly before the healer could start in on how her bandages needed to be changed, or something else that was probably important but didn’t matter to her right now. “How many others got out?”

Someone else had to have! She held onto that thought grimly in the face of Calla’s obvious reluctance to answer. There was a brief, unequal staring contest, then Calla gave in. “One,” she said quietly. “One other person.” The healer shifted, prepared to catch Eylira if she fainted.

Eylire didn’t faint. The moment had taken on a feel of unreality, but she wasn’t close to fainting. _Only one?_ That wasn’t poss... wasn’t logical! There had been several hundred people living in Midrift! How could only two of them have gotten out? “Who else?” Her tone was alarmingly high-pitched. Calla frowned.

“Perhaps I should make you a calming drink,” she suggested. Eylira did not want to be calm. She’d never felt less like being calm in her 17 years. She raised her hand to gesture in rejection of the idea and received another shock. Her hand wasn’t there. Along with the rest of her left arm, just below the elbow.

“It couldn’t be saved.” Calla’s voice seemed to come from very far away. “More than being burnt, there was so much dirt and ash in it, infection was almost guaranteed. We chose not to take the risk.”

Dirt and ash. Dimly, Eylira remember putting out the burning limb with whatever she could scrape out of the ground and felt very stupid. She didn’t know what else could she have done, but she felt stupid about that particular choice nonetheless. “Who else survived?” Her voice came out very flat; the healer seemed to find this alarming.

“I don’t know her name. I’ll get her for you, but you must drink this.” She pressed a glass full of faintly cloudy water into Eylira’s remaining hand. “It will calm you.” Then she stood there, making no move to go until Eylira had drained the glass. She couldn’t have been alone for long, but it felt that way until someone else stepped into the tent. Not Calla; this must have been the other survivor of the fire.

She didn’t know her.

At this final disappointment (and perhaps the medicine taking effect helped), Eylira burst into tears. Rapid footsteps, and then a hand pressed against the top of her head. “I know,” the stranger murmured. “I cried for hours. I’m not sure how I managed to stop.” There was no further show of sympathy. Perhaps the woman could tell that was enough.

Eventually Eylira ran out of tears. She knew there would be more later, but for now she was drained. “Thank you,” she said in a voice that was still watery. “I’m Eylira. Is there really no one else?”

Her companion sat. “I’m Sanvi. And no.” She toyed with her long blonde hair for a moment, then added in a low voice. “I survived only because I wasn’t there. I’d snuck out and by the time I got back everything was burning. I saw...” She trailed off and swallowed hard.

Eylira knew what she meant. She’d seen things too. Her little brother crushed under a beam, the family cat a shrieking fireball... Eylira shuddered and pushed the memories away. “I’m sorry,” she offered uselessly. “I saw things too.” She couldn’t think about that now. She still wouldn’t want to think about it later, but she _couldn’t_ now.

To her surprise, Sanvi spoke up in disagreement. “I didn’t see anything like what you saw. No bodies. I saw-” She paused as if steeling herself, and Eylira groped for understanding. What else had there been to see but fire and corpses?

“I saw who did it.”

...Well. That _was_ a third option. Eylira stared in uncomprehending silence as Sanvi continued, her tone growing angrier the longer she went on. “Someone did this on purpose. I heard them first and followed the sound... they were laughing as our home burned. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. I don’t think they were human.”

That did it. That went too far. Eylira had been in training as a scribe before this; she was accustomed to logic and order. Her recent experiences had stretched her far enough. “The Third Race retreated across the ocean centuries ago. But one came back to burn down a village? No. I don’t believe you.”

“Fine,” Sanvi snapped back. “Don’t believe me. I thought you’d like to see them pay like I do, but I guess I was mistaken.” And she stood up, as if she thought she could drop all that information on Eylira and then just leave.

No! “Wait!” Eylira yelped. It was undignified, but so what? “Please. I didn’t mean it.” She had to know more. Until it made sense. There really was no reason she could think of for what Sanvi said to be true, but on the other hand it seemed too obvious to be a lie. “What else did you see?”

Sanvi smiled and sat back down. If there was something off in that smile, Eylira was in no state to notice and any other observer would have attributed it to recent events. “I don’t know how much more I can tell you. You’re the one who was in there. Didn’t you notice anything strange?”

When she put it like that... Eylira remembered how the flames seemed to be coming after her, thought again of how impossible it was that only she escaped. But if someone had been directing the whole thing? “I can see it being possible. But I can’t understand why.”

This time there was no mistaking the satisfaction in Sanvi’s eyes, but being believed was surely enough of a reason for it. “I don’t understand either. But I intend to find out. When you’re able, will you travel with me?” It was a question with only one possible answer. Eylira felt trapped. Had she been more clear-headed, she might have wondered if that was deliberate.

“I’ll go with you,” she agreed quietly.

Sanvi nodded, businesslike. “Rest. As soon as you’re able, we’ll go.” She settled back into the char beside the bed. Eylira, by now fully in the grip of the medicine, contented herself with staring at her pillow.

It took nearly a fortnight. Sanvi stopped in to check on her recovery, but for the most part it was Calla who kept Eylira company. The healer was adamantly opposed to the plan of ‘leave as soon as possible’ so eventually Sanvi strongarmed another healer into giving them the ointment for Eylira’s burns.

They crept off in the early morning. Both wanted to get away with minimal fuss, and Eylira wanted to avoid Calla’s worried gaze. They had no horses, and every step sent tingles of pain up her spine. But it was bearable now. A little further away from the makeshift camp, Sanvi stopped and turned to hand Eylira a knife.

“I want my hair cut short like yours,” she declared, gathering up the blonde strands in one hand. Eylira fingered her own darker locks. She hadn’t cut it; it had burned off. She’d liked her long hair. But Sanvi was standing there expectantly and in the face of her practicality, saying so felt petty.

It took a few tries but in the end Sanvi had even enough hair, reaching no further than her chin. She dropped the rest disdainfully. “Let birds line their nests with it.” Taking back her knife, Sanvi continued forward and didn’t join Eylira when she glanced back at the pile of rubble she’d lived in until recently.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've tried writing down any of the stuff bouncing around in my head! I have no idea how I feel about it. Ideally this will become at least a full novel to potentially a series. Please leave feedback/criticism, I really do want to know how terrible I may or may not be at this!


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